<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Worth It by Gasagasa</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488372">Worth It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gasagasa/pseuds/Gasagasa'>Gasagasa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Promare (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Choking, Freeze Force, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Pre-Canon, Rape/Non-con Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:02:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gasagasa/pseuds/Gasagasa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lio can guess what comes next- he’d endured it the first time he was captured, and he can do it again. Whatever it takes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lio Fotia/Orignal Characters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worth It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first published fic, and I don't know how to tag.<br/>Mind the warnings!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cell door is thrown open, and Lio squints as harsh light falls in. It illuminates a group of burnish prisoners, hunched against the walls, eyes cast down. Two faceless Freeze Force grunts look in, and their gaze locks on Lio, equally hunched but a little more defiant.</p><p>“You. Up.”</p><p>He complies slowly- too slowly, as they grab him by the elbows and forcefully march him out. The door slams. Lio’s stomach flips over as he's walked down a long hallway to a different cell, vacant, with only a small wooden table standing in the center.</p><p>Lio has only been the leader of Mad Burnish for a few months, but it’s a burden that he carries willingly and gratefully. This is his second time breaking out of the massive burnish detention facility, and he can’t let this go wrong- he’s here undercover, waiting for Meis and Gueira to strike from the outside. Then he’ll shatter his cuffs and rescue everyone the Foundation is holding prisoner. If his identity is found out, Freeze Force could hold the lives of the burnish prisoners against him- and that can’t be an option. Whatever comes next is worth it. It has to be.</p><p>Lio is thrown onto the table, bent over it with his arms out in front of him. It’s a little awkward with the bulky freezing ring, but he manages to prop himself up on his elbows. A heavy weight on his back pins him to the table, immobile.</p><p>Lio can guess what comes next- he’d endured it the first time he was captured, and he can do it again. Whatever it takes.</p><p>A booted foot kicks his legs apart as far as they will go with the chains around his ankles, and Lio screws his eyes shut.</p><p>Pretend it’s not happening. Pretend it’s not happening. </p><p>He keeps them closed as the two soldiers reach under him to unbutton his shirt, harsly running their hands over his chest, down to his navel, back up to his pecs.</p><p>Just breathe.</p><p>“I remember you,” a gravelly voice says to him while a hand squeezes his chest. “You know the drill now, huh?” Lio can hear him smiling as he continues. “The less you struggle, the smoother this goes.”</p><p>He trails his hands down Lio’s stomach as the other man reaches up to squeeze Lio’s nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Lio exhales hard from his nose, nausea growing in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>The hands continue lower and the men laugh when Lio’s muscles jump in discomfort. One of thm walks around the table to face him as the other reaches his waistband. His top belt is undone and the button on his pants is popped open, the zipper yanked down. </p><p>Breathe, Lio. They don’t matter. They don’t mean anything. </p><p>A hand grabs his chin sharply; forced to look up, Lio glares at the man above him. Now that Lio’s up close, the guard looks familiar- a wicked smile, cruel eyes. </p><p>The hand holding his jaw moves to caress Lio’s cheek, and the other one sides up into his hair, twisting it into a painful grip.<br/>
“Last time we made you cry. You remember?” A thumb brushes over Lio’s bottom lip, soflty. “Let’s see if we can do that again, honey.” </p><p>Lio scowls, but his breath is unsteady, betraying his fear. He remembers. It was his first time experiencing the hospitality of a burnish facility. He’d always been able to avoid Freeze Force, his powerful connection with the flames saving him time and again. But others weren’t so lucky, and so he got himself caught, to save them. He hadn’t cried that hard since his parents died.</p><p>Focused on the soldier in front of him, Lio gasps when his pants are pulled down, then his underwear. The man in front of him takes the opportunity to push thick fingers into Lio’s mouth, holding his head steady with the fist wrapped in his hair. Lio can feel his face turning red as hands grope his ass, his thighs. </p><p>“You aren’t getting my fingers wet enough-” the fingers in question pry further into Lio’s mouth. “Do you want this to hurt more for you?” I thought we’d trained you better, after last time.” They prod the back of his throat, shoving, pressing- and Lio gags, and gags and gags, until the fingers withdraw, a string of saliva connecting them to Lio’s lips. His face burns with hot shame. </p><p>The man behind him pushes his clothed body against Lio’s back, hands running from thighs to chest to hips. Lio’s bangs are brushed out of his face, sweetly, and then he’s slapped across the cheek so hard he sees stars.<br/>
“Hold him open for me,” Lio vaguely registers, and the figure in front of him withdraws while hands part his ass, exposing him. </p><p>Two wet fingers find their way in, stretching him open, and it hurts. Lio whimpers. The digits stay in his ass as the other guard comes around the table to stand in front of him. A cock slaps his face, half hard.</p><p>“Open up, baby.” Lio grits his teeth. He does not open. </p><p>A third finger is added, dry, and Lio cries out in pain. The guard in front of him hooks a thumb into Lio’s mouth, holds his jaw open and shoves his cock in. Lio thinks about biting, warm blood flowing into his mouth and down his chin, the man before him screaming, and he knows he can’t.</p><p>The guard makes short thrusts in and out, not quite hitting his throat. He strokes a hand into Lio’s crown and then twists, hard enough to burn. The fingers in him recede and his ears ring. His breathing speeds up, out of his control, as something much larger than those fingers pushes into his ass. The tears finally come. They stream hot down his cheeks and Lio sobs around the cock fucking into his mouth. </p><p>“There they are,” a voice croons. The guard traces the curve of Lio’s cheekbone. “Did we break you? They didn’t come so easy last time.” The gentle touch is repugnant, and Lio tries to turn his face away, to hide. </p><p>“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay to cry. Good boy.”</p><p>Lio doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want any of this, the cock in his mouth or the one in his ass, he needs his flames, needs them to make this stop- he shuts down those thoughts, hard. There are people he couldn’t save, people whom he let die, people still imprisoned because of him. Because of his weakness. Lio will endure this for them. It’s better that it’s him, anyway. He’s not free of blame. Maybe he deserves this, this awful degradation.</p><p>The guard fucking Lio starts moving in earnest, slamming into him, making him cry out around the cock in his mouth with each thrust. He slaps Lio’s ass, and the sob Lio makes in return is enough to send the man in his mouth over the edge. He comes down Lio’s throat, forcing him to swallow. He pulls out and the bitterness clings to Lio’s lips and streaks his chin. He coughs pathetically, spit and cum dripping from his mouth, fresh tears clinging to his eyelashes. </p><p>“You’re so beautiful like this,” the man’s voice is breathless after finishing, almost tender. The hand that was in Lio’s hair wraps around his throat. Not quite squeezing, but solid, unmovable.</p><p>Every time the man behind him fucks in, Lio’s throat pushes up against that unyielding grip, choking him.<br/>
“He likes that, he’s- he’s tightening up.” The guard moans, and his thrusts get erratic as he reaches the edge. The hand around Lio’s throat tightens, cutting off his air completely, as the man fucking him buries himself in Lio’s ass and comes with a low groan. Lio can feel it inside of him, feel it seep out as the guard leaves him empty.</p><p>The hand relaxes against Lio’s throat and he gasps for air, sagging against the table. His legs shake from the strain of holding himself up. He can’t think, he can’t move.</p><p>The guard behind him strokes his ass appreciatively, palms slipping down the backs of Lio’s thighs. “Nice legs on this one.”</p><p>“And a nice mouth, too.” Hands steady Lio’s hips as his pants are pulled up, heedless of the cum running down his legs. The guards don’t bother to zip up Lio’s pants or button his shirt as they march him back down the hallway, resorting to a half-carry when his legs give out beneath him. </p><p>Lio is thrown back into the group cell, the other burnish hardly sparing him a glance, consumed with their own misery. This is normal, Lio thinks. This is what it is to be burnish.</p><p>He curls in on himself on the floor, shaking. Meis and Gueira will be there soon. They’ll break out, and Lio can forget this ever happened. He can move on. It will all be worth it.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>